Open Wounds
by a.c.ryder
Summary: Daryl is Negan's prisoner, and due to his extensive injuries and extreme guilt has started hallucinating. Long Multi-chapter, TD, and Bethyl (eventually).
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So this is a new story that was inspired by the season 7 premier. It is TD/Bethyl (eventually, anyway). I hope you enjoy it! :)

I don't own TWD or any of these characters. I don't profit.

* * *

When he woke and found himself still captive in the windowless dirty cell, he wasn't surprised. He wasn't anything. Negan made damn sure of that. A pungent, metallic scent assaulted his senses. It was the all too familiar smell of blood and decay; of a dead animal, of the dead walking around, of _him_. He was dying, and he couldn't help but feel a little glad that soon it would all be over.

They tried to treat his injuries, but Daryl wouldn't let them. All he knew was that they wanted him alive for some reason, and he'd be damned if he helped them in any way. He didn't even tell them he was infected with the disease, that when he dies he'll turn and take as many as he can with him when he does. He doesn't really want to die, but locked up in here slowly bleeding to death is the least he deserves for getting Glenn murdered and leaving Maggie a widow and their child fatherless.

Time no longer has meaning here. He'd managed to escape three times, it was daylight twice, and night the other. For all he knew he escaped on the same day, or different days over the course of several weeks. The last attempt resulted in the threat of Negan killing another member of his family to punish him. So Daryl stopped. He stopped fighting; he stopped caring, he rebuilt his walls around him and waited for the inevitable end.

"On your feet, boy…" echoed a voice around him. He froze, that voice didn't belong here – it belonged to his past.

Daryl forced his eyes open, peering out from beneath his hair to see his old man standing before him – a beer in one hand, his belt in the other. He once thought a beating from his old man was rough, but Negan has far surpassed his father in terms of abuse and degradation. Something Daryl had previously thought impossible.

"I said on your feet…" he commanded again, whipping the belt against the ground. Daryl sat up, resting his back against the cold concrete wall. Funny how suddenly Daryl no longer feared his father, how weak and truly pathetic he seemed in light of Negan.

"You ain't real – ya can't hurt me…"

"I didn't raise you to be this weak! Get on your damn feet, boy…"

Daryl actually laughed, then spit blood at his father's feet. "Ya didn' raise me at all…"

"Yea, your worthless mother and brother did that – no wonder you're so pathetic."

Daryl rubbed at his eyes, wincing at the pain of the bruises and cuts that still bled. He wasn't broken, not really. Being this near to death, he still didn't consider it defeat. Negan wanted something, and he wanted it from Daryl. Information, an inside man, Daryl couldn't be sure, but what they saw as a broken spirit was Daryl's own stubbornness, refusing to cooperate with the people who murdered his friends so ruthlessly – even if it cost him his life in the end – this wasn't defeat.

"Oh, little brother, yer a sad sight…" Daryl's eyes snapped open, glaring at his brother. Their father was gone, and Merle stood shaking his head in disappointment. Maybe he had already died and this was actually hell. "First you lost me, than that pretty little songbird, then you got that Chinaman killed…"

"I told ya…he's Korean."

"He _was_ ," Merle laughed.

"Shut the fuck up!" he growled rising up on his hands and knees.

"That's right little brother, get angry – wake the fuck up and get a move on 'fore you get someone else killed." All at once Daryl's anger left him, deflating back to the ground.

"They'll kill them if I try. I gotta protect the ones left…" he curled into the corner, pulling his knees to his chest and closing his eyes as if that would make his brother stop.

"How can ya even live with yerself? Ya let blondie get in your head, mess you up. You let that whipped piece of shit steal your crossbow and kill the kind Doctor lady. You _should_ just stay on the ground – bleed out the last of your miserable life."

"Her name's Beth."

 _Beth_ … Like saying her name conjured her spirit before him. It wasn't the first time he'd seen her or heard her sing since he'd been locked up here. But unlike his father and brother, her presence brought him comfort. He couldn't fight her, even if he wanted to. She didn't have the scars on her face, wearing what he last saw her in – the clothes she got at the golf club.

"I missed ya…" he whispered, feeling a small smile pull at his dry and cracking lips.

"Told ya you would." She smiled so bright it lit up his dark cell, the same way she'd once lit up his whole world.

"I remember." He relaxed, letting his memories of her wash over him, watching as she sang her song about a struggling man. He'd never heard it before, but he listened until he lost consciousness.

* * *

So this is my headcanon for how season 7 could go if they brought Beth back. I kept it short and kind of bare cause this story is gonna get darker and I wanted to save the angst for the heavier moments. This is just a teaser of what's to come. Note: there will be NO non-con in this story, other than what is already canon. There may be threats of it and other graphic depictions/descriptions of violence and abuse, but no non-con. Let me know what you think. I hope to add the second chapter by tomorrow at the latest. :)))


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wow, I can't believe I finished it when I said I would :)) Here is ch. 2.

* * *

"Who's Beth?" Negan asked again, watching his prisoner with intrigue. It was a name he hadn't heard yet, and Negan could use some collateral right now to motivate his newest possession. But Daryl no longer saw them; he was in a world all his own when he was awake, and crying like a baby when he slept.

"He's dyin', Negan," Simon said beside him.

"You think I can't see that?" Negan sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I thought for damn sure he was a fighter, especially how hard he fought when we first brought him here."

"Maybe he's just too broken…after what happened." Simon shifted uncomfortably as Negan stared at him, "Thing about breaking a man is ya can break him too much – ya gotta do it right."

"Nah, if you're gonna break a man, do it with kindness, right? We've been beating him, that's what he's used to if those scars are any indication. We gotta take care of him, get him to trust us." Negan pushed off the doorframe of Daryl's cell, locking it behind him and leaving Daryl in complete darkness. He walked with newfound purpose, setting Lucille on his shoulder as he strode through the compound.

"We've tried that, remember? He damn near killed the doctor." Simon said, catching up to him.

"So we send in someone less threatening."

"Like who?"

"Lori." Negan smiled and Simon stopped him walking.

"Lori ain't one of us…" his right hand man reminded him. Negan only shrugged.

"Not yet, this can be her initiation. Besides, she has some medical training, right?"

"Yea, some."

"Well, maybe it'll be just enough to get Mr. Dixon to cooperate. He ain't no good to me dead. Now, I'm gonna go talk to Lori…alone." Simon sighed, stepping from Negan's path.

"Pardon the interruption," he said, trying his best to be charming. The young woman looked up from her book, not smiling or scowling at him, just acknowledging his presence. "I have a favor to ask."

"And you're asking me because…?"

"Because you and I got off to a bad start. I want to show you I can be good." She scoffed at him, and he did his best to keep his anger in check. "There's a man here, been treated kind of rough – keeps attacking my doctor when we send him in. I'm told you have some medical training, and I was hoping you'd be kind enough to help me – help _him_." It got her to look at him, but not in the way he wanted.

"You want me to go try to treat a man who's been attacking people?" she asked, her voice incredulous. "What makes you think he won't attack me?"

"Cause you're not as threatening as some of my other staff…"

"So you've tortured someone and want me to fix him for you?"

"Torture is an ugly word,"

"If the shoe fits." She mumbled, returning her focus to her book. He stepped closer, gripping the edges of the table she sat at and leaned in uncomfortably close.

"The thing is, you're entirely too defiant for your own good. Maybe helping this man will not only help me, but it'll help you realize exactly why you want to stay on my good side. I've let you stay here while asking very little in return. It's time you start earning your keep, just like everyone else."

"Fine, take me to him." she huffed, rising to her feet.

* * *

Lori followed in Negan's footsteps, stopping first at the medical bay to get some basic supplies, and then to a block of the sanctuary she'd never seen before – and hoped to never see again.

"He's just in here," Negan said, opening the door and handing her an LED lantern. "I'll be waiting right here, scream if you need help."

She switched the lantern on, squinting at the overly bright light. The door was closed and locked from the outside and she held up the light to find the man in question. There was a low growl that came from behind her, and she turned on her heel to see a man curled up in the corner, knees up to his chest. Seeing his shaggy brown hair the supplies slipped from her hands as her breath lodged in her throat.

"Her name's Beth…" he mumbled.

She recognized him, having seen his face every night in her dreams she'd know that face – and that voice – anywhere…Daryl Dixon. She shuffled closer, fighting the tears that burned in her eyes as she knelt beside him.

"I missed ya…" came his quiet voice, and he managed a small smile. Her heart wrenched at the bruised and bloody sight of him, but she smiled nonetheless.

"Told ya you would.

"I remember." His body physically relaxed and she knelt beside him, doing the only thing she could think to do in that moment…sing. She sang her heart out, trying to ignore the existence of the man on the other side of it, waiting for her to heal him.

Her hands went to the hem of his shirt, about to pull it up and off to assess and treat his wounds, but she stopped. She knew Daryl, knew how proud and private he was, even though they'd been together for weeks, he never undressed anywhere near her. He was unconscious, and he wouldn't appreciate her doing this without his consent or being awake.

"What did they do to you?" she asked, her voice hitching with tears. But Daryl was already out. She felt for his pulse, it was weak and thready, but it was there. White hot rage coursed through her and she pursed her lips, rising to her feet and banging loudly on the door.

"You alright?" Negan asked sweetly.

"I'm fine, but he's not. You have to move him out of this room if you want me to help him. He has a lot of injuries and I need a lot more light and a clean environment to treat these cuts." She could see Negan wanted to protest, to gloat and tell her that this place was run by him and not her and she would do what he said and when. But he only smiled.

"Yes, ma'am."

Beth followed close behind them, never taking her eyes from his face. They were all a little too thin these days, but in the harsh light of day she could see how truly pale and malnourished he was. They arrived at the medical bay, and Daryl was placed on a gurney and a curtain closed around them. She was alone in a small space with Negan, Simon and the Doctor that Daryl apparently attacked. She sent the doctor to get a basin of warm water and washcloth.

"You can both leave," Beth said, not looking up from Daryl.

"Sorry, ma'am that wouldn't be appropriate – to leave a young woman and an unconscious man together. This here is a respectable establishment." Simon laughed at Negan's joke and Beth glared at them.

"I have to give him a bath of sorts to see where the injuries actually are, and then I have to clean them out and bandage him. Unless, of course, you want to watch me undress a grown man…" Negan sighed, giving her an amused smirk.

"Alright, let's leave the lady to her work. If he wakes up and sees the doc he might still attack anyway…damn dog."

She flinched at the words Negan had said, wondering if he had been verbally abusing Daryl as well as physically. She couldn't help but be protective of him, knowing how little Daryl thought of himself. It wouldn't be hard to undo the fragile self-confidence he'd managed to gain within the ranks of their family. The doctor set the basin of water near Daryl's bed and disappeared behind the curtain once more.

"I know you're gonna be mad at me for this, but I hope you'll thank me later." She said, now pulling his shirt up and over his head. It would be easier if he were awake, she can't exactly lift and maneuver him the way she needs to and she would rather die than ask Negan for any help at all.

Her heart clenched and her stomach knotted at the state of his body. Most of his torso was black and blue and purple instead of white. Though some of the open cuts on his arms, face and chest still bled, the wounds had partially scabbed over. She cringed, not sure if the wounds were that fresh, or they had already scabbed over and had been ripped open again by Negan or his men during a beating.

The bruising was heaviest around his ribs and Beth feared he had broken ribs and a punctured lung. The handprints around his neck told her he'd been choked and deprived of oxygen more than once. Her anger burned so hot she was numb with it, unable to even cry for this man she loved so dearly. She would help him as much as she could, and as soon as he was able, they were getting out together…again.

Making quick work with a warm washcloth, she gently wiped away the blood and grime that had caked to his skin. He needed a good soak in soapy water to get it all off, but she could clear enough to give her an accurate picture. So far none of his injuries required stitches. But there was one wound that caught her attention, on his left hand, a faded scar in the shape of a small circle, not unlike her gunshot wound. But it was a burn. Her fingers ghosted over the scar, vowing once more that she would get him better, then get him home.

* * *

When Daryl woke again the air had shifted, he wasn't in his cell and he wasn't alone. It wasn't near this bright where they kept him, and it didn't smell this clean. _Clean_ , his skin didn't feel so tight anymore, and a lot of the dull aches had subsided. Had someone bathed him? Had it all been some horrific nightmare and he'd wake up in Alexandria and greet Glenn like he did every morning?

"Daryl?" came a weak, broken whisper. There was hope in her voice, faint – but it was there. He didn't want to open his eyes, she couldn't be here – not here – she couldn't be alive. He didn't want to open his eyes because if she was here, he was well and truly dead. They both were.

"Daryl?" she asked again, her voice more forceful, more detached, "My name is Lori; I'm here to help you."

He slapped her hand away as the cotton touched the open wound above his eye and he had her pinned beneath him in one swift motion. If she didn't look so much like Beth he'd've had his hand 'round her neck. Her clothes were different; she had the scars on her cheek and forehead; the bullet hole near her temple and bracelets around her left wrist. She wasn't in the yellow shirt he last saw her in, she wasn't singing, she didn't look at all at peace or angelic. She didn't scream for help or struggle at all. Her eyes were as calm and gentle as he remembered, breathing heavily beneath him. His head swam along with his vision; the physical exertion of such a small action exhausted his mind and body.

"Shh, it's ok, I won't hurt you." She whispered, her eyes looking at him with such intensity he could hear the words she wasn't speaking. Her name was Lori. But this was Beth. She was asking him to play along.

He rolled off her onto his side, the gurney not wide enough for the both of them. Laying his forearm over his eyes, he felt her slip from his side and shuffle closer, then she was dabbing the open gash above his eye. If she was just gonna be using that cotton ball to clean him up, she had her work cut out for her.

"You're gonna be alright, Daryl."

"Whatever you say, _Lori_ …"

He let her do whatever she wanted, she moved his limbs where she needed them and he rolled onto his stomach when she asked. If it was anyone else he would've fought tooth and nail, but it was Beth and she was taking care of him and who was too damn tired to fight. She's so gentle it almost hurts in comparison to the abuse he's endured so far.

When she tucked the blanket around him he was certain this was a dream. As she turned to walk away, he grabbed her wrist pulling her closer and down to the bed.

"Stay with me, girl." He told her, figuring it could do no harm to anyone if it was only in his mind. She smiled at him, and careful of his injuries, laid beside him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, kissing her temple, no longer afraid to show affection, "God, I've missed you, Greene."

"I missed you so much, Daryl…"

He's alone again, he realizes, when he wakes in his cell. This time, there is less pain; the blood that had been caked and dried on his skin was gone. Where there had been open wounds now were covered with clean white bandages. It hadn't been a dream. Or maybe Lori was real but he just saw Beth. He couldn't think straight.

* * *

Again, it's kinda bare, I'm just doing set-up right now. The next few chapters are gonna focus on where Beth has been and Daryl's unraveling sanity. Sorry. :/ but I hope you enjoyed it :)


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry for the delay, this chapter kinda plays with the timeline a bit. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

 _The pounding in her head was unlike any pain she had ever experienced. The pressure of a needle throbbed in her arm and the steady beeping of a heart monitor agitated her already aching mind. But that didn't make sense. She searched her memories, certain she would remember walking out the front door with Daryl and Rick at her side. She was going to see Maggie, she could feel it._

 _But there was nothing. It couldn't have been a dream. Her family was here – Daryl had found her as she always knew he would. It was so real. Her eyes watered and though she felt like crying, no tears would fall. She tried to open her eyes,_ tried _being the operative word._

" _Beth?"_

 _She froze, recognizing his voice but holding onto the belief that she had escaped._

" _Dr. Edward's?"_

" _Yes, thank God you're awake." She could feel him step closer and instinctively she flinched back._

" _Why won't my eyes open?" she asked him. There was a moment of silence._

" _What?"_

" _My eyes...I'm trying to open them, but it's not working." There was an even longer moment of silence, then the gentle touch of his fingertips above her eye. She could hear the click of a flashlight, but no light penetrated the darkness. He sighed, a heavy, deeply troubling sound._

" _Your eyes_ are _open, Beth."_

" _No, they can't be, or else I would see." Her voice cracked, the breath lodging in her throat as her heart raced._

" _It's not that uncommon, especially after a gunshot to the head."_

" _I was shot?" she shook her head in denial, certain this was all a lie or just a nightmare she'd wake up from, "Where's Dawn? Where's Noah?"_

" _That man, the one I assume you had been with, killed her after she shot you."_

" _So they are here?" she asked hopefully._

" _They_ were _. They took Noah home, I think."_

 _It was strange to feel her chest heaving, her mind and body sobbing, but having no tears to show for it. She was bitter and sad and so confused._

" _Why did they leave me here?" The tightness in her chest became unbearable. She was panting, but no breath reached her lungs. Her head spun and she grew light headed and dizzy._

" _Beth, breathe. Calm down…breathe…" his voice echoed in her mind, gripping her shoulders and trying to ease her to lay back._

Her eyes opened, her body tangled in a mess of sheets, Dwight gripping her shoulders.

"Hey girl…" She bolted upright, slapping Dwight's hands from her as she pulled away. "Easy now."

"What are you doing in here?" she demanded, scrambling to her feet.

"You were crying so loud you were damn near screamin'. I thought you were in trouble." She glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest. Every time she saw Dwight she had to fight the urge to hit him, to take back Daryl's bow and return it to him.

"Well, I'm not, so you can leave now."

"Now Lori, is that anyway to thank the man who was about to save your life?" he licked his lips suggestively, but in the short time that Beth had been here, even she knew Dwight never touched any of the women.

"Where is he?" she asked, not taking the bait.

" _He_ who?"

"The man I was with…"

It wasn't lost on her how similar it was to her first conversation at Grady with Dawn, and not that Doctor Edwards was a friend, but he was the last one with her when they arrived in Virginia – when the _Saviors_ found them. They got separated in the fight, and she hoped he'd made it out, made it far away from these people.

"Oh the doctor…real skittish guy?" she nodded, "He's here; we're tryin' to get him to cooperate."

She swallowed hard, imagining him to be in situation similar to Daryl, "I want to see him."

"Sorry, blondie, can't allow that."

She clenched her jaw, "My name is not blondie,"

"I know. Pretty soon you'll be Negan, just like Daryl, just like the rest of us."

"Never," she spat vehemently, speaking as much for Daryl as herself.

As if saying his name conjured the man himself, Negan came into her room behind Dwight, Daryl being dragged behind him. Immediately, Dwight bowed his head and stepped out of Negan's path, keeping his eyes downcast.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting?" Negan asked, looking between them.

"No, not at all." She replied, not taking her eyes off Daryl. He wouldn't look at her though, and she didn't let her eyes linger too long lest she raise Negan's suspicion. Trying to act like she didn't care was proving harder than she ever could have imagined.

"You look like you been crying." Negan's voice cut into her thoughts, "Did he hurt you? In fact, I don't remember giving you permission to be in this room…"

Dwight stiffened at the threatening edge to Negan's words, even Daryl seemed to tense up at what action Negan might take.

"He didn't hurt me and I wasn't crying. I was having a nightmare and he came to wake me up." Beth said, not certain why she cared if this man was beaten or not.

"Dwight, go help the others pack the truck. We're leaving soon." He pointed to Daryl, his eyes never leaving her, "Take this one with you,"

Beth felt the rage stirring again as Dwight turned, wearing the wings of Daryl's vest on his back. Seeing Dwight with Daryl's crossbow was bad enough, but now she had to stifle to urge to jump on his back and rip the vest off. Daryl was more than his vest and more than his bow, but to see something that was so essential to who Daryl was on the body of someone who was the exact opposite of him was just about unbearable.

"Leaving?" she managed to ask as Daryl was pushed from her sight.

"Yes ma'am, goin' to see some of Daryl's people. Gonna miss me while I'm gone?"

"Uh huh…" she agreed, hardly able to think beyond who made up _'Daryl's people'_.

"Liar, I think I prefer your hatred of me..." He said. She forced a smile.

"Well, then don't let me keep you."

"You can keep me as long as you want…" she cringed internally, was he seriously flirting with her right now? "Maybe next time you can join us. My wife will be paying you a visit."

She shook her head, nauseated that he was flirting with her while being married. The idea that anyone could tolerate that man long enough to be their wife seemed truly impossible. He closed her door behind him and she heaved a sigh of relief to be free of him. She went about her morning routine, washing her face, brushing her teeth, trying to manage the mess of her hair. Staring in the mirror, Beth smoothed her fingers over each of her scars. She used to wear make-up, ashamed of her scars and not wanting to explain to every living soul left that she had survived a gunshot to the head. In the humid Georgia heat, though, the makeup proved to be impractical, and now she takes pride in her scars, evidence that she has actually survived this world.

But even now, she wasn't sure this was real. To survive a gunshot wound, to get out with the help of Dr. Edwards and some volunteers along the way – to find Daryl here…no one has such luck nowadays. She laughed at her own thoughts, _luck_ is not something she has had. She's alive and that's about all she can say, but she's not sure that's any better than the alternative.

Staring at her reflection, she could see the tears pooling in her eyes, even though she couldn't necessarily feel them. But she could feel the tightness in her chest, the knot burning and tingling in her throat. Daryl was here – he was alive – but he was here, being tortured and on the brink of death. He always seemed so invincible to her, that there was truly nothing that could or would ever bring him down. She even told him he'd be the last man standing, and she still believed that.

Last night, he told her he missed her twice, even asked that she stay with him. She'd missed him so much she couldn't have denied him if she wanted to. But on some level she knows that Daryl would never ask for that, or admit something so simple to her if he thought she was real, or if there would be emotions to be worked through afterward.

And as she lay by his side, feeling his heavy and labored breathing, she wondered how long he's been here. Did their whole family get captured after Atlanta? Did Noah get home safely? Were they captives here as well? Had they all died and Daryl drifted the rest of the way on his own? Or had they simply become separated? She needed to know her sister survived, that she would see her family again.

The sound of machine gun fire made her stomach drop and her heart stop. Her first thought was that Rick and the rest of her family were storming the compound to rescue Daryl. She had no windows in her room, and she hated being unable to see what was happening. But after the few short bursts, there was silence. An eerie, overwhelming silence and all she wanted was to make sure Daryl was safe.

Beth jumped slightly as a gentle knock came on her door. She knew it wasn't Negan or Dwight; they pound on the door and open it before she invites them in.

"Are you Lori?" Beth nodded, glaring at the young woman in a form-fitting black dress. "I'm Sherry, Negan's wife."

"How could you marry him?" Beth asked, not even trying to be cordial.

"May I come in?" Beth stepped back from the door, watching the woman close the door softly behind her. She didn't seem to be in distress as she stared back at her, but Beth wasn't gonna speak first. "I had my reasons…it was to save someone…my husband. Negan almost burned off his face instead, but he's still alive."

"Dwight? He was your husband?"

Sherry nodded, "But that's not why I'm here. Negan wants to make you his wife…"

Beth laughed, but the sound faded as she took in the severe look on Sherry's face. Then she was just confused…and disgusted.

"But he's already got you…" she managed to say.

"Me…and several others."

"Wait, wait, wait…he wants to add me to his collection of wives, and he sent you to pitch it to me?" Beth refused to acknowledge it as a marriage; she'd just be another hostage in a harem to a madman.

"There are worse things, trust me." By the pleading look in Sherry's eyes, Beth could almost think the woman was worried for her. But Beth got the sense that Sherry was only here to save her own hide and it didn't matter who got hurt in the process.

"Am I supposed to be scared?" Beth asked.

"Can I ask how you got those scars?" Sherry countered.

"You can ask, doesn't mean I'll answer."

"I was only gonna say it'll pale in comparison what Negan will do to you…"

"I'm not afraid of him," Beth stated adamantly which caused Sherry to laugh, a truly bitter sound.

"You would be if you knew what he was capable of…"

"Yea, well, I don't plan on marrying Negan, nor do I plan on finding out what he's capable of because I'm not staying." Sherry's mocking smile faded at her words.

"Then tell him that yourself. Don't come crying to me –"

"I don't cry at all," Beth interrupted and Sherry stood, moving toward the door. "And tell that _ex_ -husband of yours that I will be getting Daryl's vest back." At that the woman stopped, glancing over her shoulder.

"What's it to you? How do you even know its Daryl's?" Beth froze as Sherry stared at her, fearing she'd given herself away.

"He mentioned it; Negan has me taking care of him…" Beth replied. Something passed in the woman's eyes, something like recognition and Beth knew she was found out. At least on some level.

"Well, don't let Negan think you care at all, or else Daryl's face will look just like Dwight's, or worse."

"Lori!" Negan's shouted as he entered her room without warning. Both women jumped. "Sherry, you're still in here?"

"We were just getting acquainted, just like you asked. I'll leave you alone."

"Thanks for the visit…" Beth said through nearly clenched teeth, but the woman was already gone.

"Sorry to bug you again, Daryl requires your assistance."

"Why, what happened?" she asked, following him from her room.

"How the hell should I know? He's bein' so damn dramatic…" she relaxed slightly that Daryl hadn't been injured in the machine gun fire. When they didn't go to the medical bay, Beth knew exactly where they were heading.

"Why are we back here? I told you –"

"I decide where he stays, and people who attack my people get locked up!" Beth didn't back down, and she only hoped he couldn't sense her terror, "Now…"

Negan unlocked the door, and practically threw the lantern at her as he pushed her inside, slamming the door.

Switching on the light she stepped back into the door as her eyes landed on Daryl, looking more feral than ever and pacing like a caged lion ready to attack. His eyes settled on her; never before had she been so frightened of this man she'd shared so much with. But even in the dim light, she could see he was sweating, _a lot_ , the sweatshirt they forced him to wear forgotten on the floor. He looked shaky and pale as if he would drop at any second. She swallowed thickly; getting outside in the sunlight and moving around should have had a better impact on him, which confirmed her fears that he had some kind of infection.

"Who are you?" he growled out.

"I told you, my name is Lori."

"Bullshit. You're Beth, you have her scars." She was about to shush him, to plead for his discretion and beg his trust that he not give her away, but he continued, "You're Beth and you're working for _him_."

"I'm not working with or for _him_ ;" she whispered harshly, "I'm just taking care of you."

"That ain't your right or your job! I didn' wanna be helped."

"Why?!"

"Cause he gave me three options and I didn' like a damn one of 'em! So I made a fourth option, one he couldn't stop because it was my choice. Then you come along and ruin it…" His words broke her heart as their meaning sank in.

"Daryl, you don't wanna die."

"No? Maybe you're right. Maybe I don't wanna die, but I sure as hell don't wanna live workin' for the man that murdered Glenn!" he screamed.

Her world stopped on a dime.

"G-Glenn…" his name was barely a whisper on her lips.

"Yea, Glenn, 'member him? Your sister's husband?!"

"Daryl," she pleaded, her voice tight and quivering. "He's dead?" Daryl continued to pace, pointing at himself as he shook his head.

"And I got 'im killed – i's my fault and this is the least I deserve."

"Stop!" she cried out, wanting nothing more to burst into tears. "You don't deserve this at all," If she thought it would help – or if he would even accept it – she would hug him the way she did at the shack, if only to give him some kind of comfort. But he was on the defensive and she didn't want to risk agitating him further.

Terror filled her exploding heart as Daryl described in vivid detail what happened to their family, how Glenn and a man named Abraham were murdered before their eyes, how Carl almost had his hand cut off by his own father. He wasn't sure if Maggie or her baby survived her grief, she wasn't at their camp when he was brought there to rob them of what few supplies they had left. The ways in which he was beaten, punished and forced to eat dog food. Carl had managed to gun down a few of Negan's men but before he could see what would happen, Daryl was dragged away.

"So that's where the machine gun fire came from? Carl?"

The back of his hand wiped the sweat above his brow as he nodded, his eyes closing as his balance faltered.

"You should sit down," she whispered, her voice hoarse and tight.

"Don' wanna…"

Beth ran her hands over her face, trembling with fear. Perhaps she shouldn't have rushed to judge Sherry so harshly. This was the man that wanted to make her his bride, and at this point, Daryl would be in no position to stop him or get her away. Glenn was dead, Maggie was unknown and now the rest of their family was hostage to a man so evil she couldn't find words to describe him.

She noticed, though she said nothing and didn't react as Daryl fell against the wall, sliding down to the ground. He was looking at her, but it was more like he was staring straight through her to something – or someone – she couldn't see. Beth knocked on the door, waiting to be let out. Dwight smiled down at her and she practically charged through him to find Negan pacing at the end of the hall, swinging his bat.

"He's sick, he needs antibiotics or he'll die."

"Oh, sorry Darlin', medicine is for members only and Daryl just isn't a team player."

"But you said you want him alive…"

"I did, but not at the expense of my medicine. Just ask Dwight…" she looked to the man standing beside Daryl's cell, his eyes downcast but even she could see the defiance that was starting to bleed through. "But that can wait for another time. Dwight, bring the patient, we got a group meeting to attend."

Beth didn't like the sound of that, or the way Negan grabbed her arm and practically dragged her behind him. The man was actually excited, a frightening prospect, especially given the news she'd just received. She was brought to a room where Dwight kept a hand on her arm, keeping Daryl in the other, forcing them both to kneel along with everyone else. The room was wide open and Beth held her breath as she looked up to see Negan saying something to Carl.

She dropped her gaze just as quickly hoping that he didn't see or recognize her. The man in the chair was the ex-husband of one of Negan's wives, Beth learned, as Negan made his speech about rules. Dwight left them to get the iron, leaving Beth side by side with Daryl. Not far away was a young blond woman beside Sherry, also in a form-fitting black dress, the outfit Beth imagines she'll be forced to wear if it gets that far. She couldn't watch, hiding her face slightly behind Daryl's arm.

She'd never heard such inhumane screams before, and she is relieved on behalf of the man when he passed out. She happened to glance up and is caught off guard to see Carl staring at her in open shock and wonder, close enough to hug. Dropping her gaze to the ground, she pressed a finger to her lips briefly, before clasping her hands together in prayer before dropping her arms at her sides. She could only hope he understood.

After the display was over, Beth held her breath as she watched Negan lead Carl from the room. She and Daryl were returned to his cell, and he was already mumbling incoherent babble, hardly able to stand on his own two feet.

"Who the hell is this Beth?" Dwight asked, perhaps rhetorically, as he slammed the cell door.

"It ain't like he tells me anything…" Beth mumbled. She opened the cell door, sitting beside Daryl. She was exhausted, mentally and emotionally drained. So much had happened in the short span of a day, too much. She wept in spirit, mind, and body, more frightened than she's ever been.

"Whatcha cryin for?" he asked softly, his voice as gentle as she remembered it could be.

"I don't want you to die." She whimpered.

"I ain't gonna die, I'ma be the last man standin', 'member?" she looked at him to see a smirk of sorts on his lips, his eyes light.

"Of course." She smiled, but it was a sad thing and she quickly dropped her gaze to the floor. She used to have hope, to believe there was still good to be found in this world. Her own experiences in these last months had permanently altered her ability to believe such things anymore. She has faith, however small, maybe that would forever remain simply out of respect and love for her father. But it didn't comfort her anymore, nor could she use it to comfort Daryl the way she once did.

"Should we practice trackin' and usin' my bow today?" he asked. Her eyes lifted than, looking directly at him, her mind suddenly clear and already made up.

"Yea, Daryl, let's go trackin'." Before she could even stand on her feet, Dwight opened the cell door.

"Come on, visiting hours are over. We'll be back shortly."

Once again she was pulled and pushed all the way back to her room, this time she didn't even bother to ask. Everyone was scattering like roaches caught in the light. Dwight slammed her door behind him and she stared at the clock, counting down each second until seven minutes had passed. Grabbing her mason jar of water, she opened her door to relative silence and an empty hall. Still, she shut her door silently, walking with calm measured steps to the medical bay. She wouldn't even bother to sneak or steal as she stepped up to the Dr.

"Hi, before he left, Negan told me to stop by for some antibiotics for Daryl, 6 pills to be exact." He likely needed more, but Beth figured it would be safer to avoid suspicion, and she hoped it'd be enough until they got him home.

"Why six?"

"I don't know, I didn't question him. I imagine one for now, and then one over the next day or so until he's lucid and talkin' again, this way none goes to waste…" The man looked uneasy, not necessarily suspicious, so Beth continued, "I get it of you'd rather wait, but I think Negan was hopin' Daryl would be lucid by the time he got back…" she started to walk away.

"Wait," came the Doc's panicked voice. She returned to the counter, counting as he dropped each pill into her hand.

"Thank you, and do ya have any water?" He handed over a plastic bottle without question. "Thanks again."

With that she headed straight to Daryl's cell, equally relieved and concerned that practically no one was here. Her thoughts drifted to Carl, hoping they weren't delivering his dead body back to Rick and starting a war like the Governor. As she rounded the corner to Daryl's cell, a man in a mask with long hair stood straight after kneeling in front of Daryl's door. They both froze as their eyes locked.

He wasn't armed, neither was she. He held out his hands and stepped away from the door.

"Who are you?" she asked breathlessly, "What do you want with him?"

"I could ask you the same," he replied. He didn't advance on her and his eyes didn't seem crazed or like he intended to harm her in anyway. He didn't even lick his lips as his eyes hungrily gazed over her body the way most men's did. Taking a deep breath, she opened her hand with the pills.

"He needs antibiotics…"

"Well then give them to 'im." The man said closing the distance between them. She almost dropped the pills and water as he tossed a key at her as he passed, "Cell's unlocked."

She smiled, not certain who that man was but grateful beyond words to have found an ally. She ran to Daryl's cell, he was still inside holding a note that read, ' _Go now_ '. A friend, indeed.

Smiling, she placed a hand on Daryl's shoulder, holding the jar of water to his lips. He drank, coughing as he grabbed it from her and gulped its contents in a matter of seconds. She gave him the pill, which he took without question and drank half the second bottle of water.

"We goin' now?"

"Yea, Daryl, we're going now."

She helped him to his feet, allowing him to lean his body weight against her as they stepped silently from his cell. She closed the door, locking it behind them. Voices echoed and came closer and Beth panicked as a glass jar broke and spilled at their feet. She pushed them both through the closest door. She held her finger to her lips, and Daryl nodded, looking around the room. His eyes darkened with recognition as he started pulling clothes from the closet. Perhaps he forgot she was there as he ripped the sweatshirt off, putting on a short sleeve grey shirt and a flannel, and a pair of jeans.

She looked away to give him privacy, recognizing the clothes as Dwight's. This must be his room. The crossbow was gone, as was the vest, and if only to herself she vowed she'd get both back on Daryl's behalf. But she did see a pair of shoes by the door and she grabbed them. They couldn't run if he was barefoot. The sound of a lid opening had Beth turning back to see Daryl, shoveling peanut butter in his mouth with his fingers. She didn't stop him, silently handing him the bottle of water so he could wash it down, and setting the shoes beside his feet.

They sat in companionable silence and she wondered if he understood at all what was happening. His words echoed in her mind, how she'd stolen his choice from him. How Glenn was dead. How her sister had been pregnant…just like she thought she would. She had so many questions, but she knew now was not the time to ask them. It would be night soon, and Beth knew they needed to cover a lot of ground before then. When he became lucid again she could only imagine the rage she'd be faced with, but it's not like she's never dealt with his anger before. She hoped, _God_ she hoped, that he wouldn't hate her and maybe he'd be just a little bit grateful.

The voices in the hall faded, having finally cleaned the mess of broken glass. Their eyes locked and for a moment Beth thought Daryl truly saw her, but if he did, he gave no indication. The water, peanut butter and antibiotic seemed to give him the surge he needed as he was on his feet, approaching the door. She was right beside him.

* * *

Sorry to end it here, but I didn't want this chapter to get too long. Next one should be posted relatively soon. Hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to review :)))


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: So sorry for the delay, it has been an unbelievable few months for me. I wanted to post this before work tonight, so I didn't edit it too much so my apologies for any mistakes. I'll look it over when I get home. But until then, Enjoy!

* * *

Daryl approached the door with silent, measured steps, gripping the pipe in his hand tighter. Beth was with him, they were getting away and he wasn't gonna lose her this time. He'd protect her, guard her with his life and return her to their family. He's had this dream so many times before, times that he was faster and got to her before the black car with the white cross. Times that he managed to lead Beth from the hallway of that hospital before Dawn could make her final demand. But they always ended the same – somehow, he always lost her.

 _Not this time._

Pushing the door open he peered out, making sure there was no one around. The line of motorcycles was still there, and he squeezed her hand harder to make sure she was still with him. She was, matching him step for step, her nails digging into his forearm. It hurt, it felt real – more real than any vision or dream he'd ever had of her. Whether or not this was another dream he couldn't be sure, but on the off chance it was really happening, he wasn't taking any chances.

As he knelt down to hotwire the bike, he heard her gasp and saw her freeze. He looked up to see the one called Fat Joey. A cold fury raced through him, recognizing him as the one who set him up the last time he'd tried to escape – one of the many who had beaten him so mercilessly. Now, this once fearless man was suddenly terrified; cowering, raising his hands and begging for his life. And not too long ago, Daryl may have even felt compassion and spared him.

But then Dwight happened. Denise died. They let the Governor live. Herschel died and they lost everything. Leaving Fat Joey alive to run his mouth to Negan, they could die. Negan could use Beth as leverage against him, and in turn, use him against their family. Or, Negan could simply kill him and keep Beth for himself. He raised the pipe. The burning ache in his muscles as he brought down the pipe repeatedly made him feel weak, leaving him in breathless agony, but not even that was enough to stop him.

It was all a blur; killing Fat Joey, seeing Jesus, stealing the bikes and making their escape. And Beth…she was with him, her shaking hands fisting the back of his shirt. It still felt real, but he didn't know how that could be. The guilt of leaving her in Georgia is something that has never gone away. She had been a fixture in both his dreams and his nightmares in every moment since that day, but he had never _felt_ her before.

Rick, he knew, saw Lori everywhere around the prison after she died. Had he officially lost his mind? Was she going to be an ever present ghost that haunted his every step until he ended up like Rick? The winding road before him seemed to be moving closer, swaying from side to side like they were on a rope bridge. It made him nauseas, then they were wobbling as he struggled to steady the bike.

Her hands released his shirt, her small hands reaching around and settling over his on the handles.

If she spoke he didn't hear, but he followed her lead and pulled the bike off the road.

As he tried to stand, a violent wave of dizziness and nausea caused him to double over. He was exhausted and as the world spun around him, he could feel himself being held up between two bodies and dragged along with them. A fierce burning coursed through him as their grips tightened around his waist, digging into bruises and old wounds. His mind felt detached from his body in an attempt to protect itself from the sheer, overwhelming pain. Through his blurred vision he could see the forest slowly going by him, but couldn't tell where they were leading his broken body.

A surge of fresh pain ripped through as they set him on the ground, his back resting against a thick tree. He squeezed his eyes shut and took breath after deep breath until the nausea ebbed and the constant spinning began to cease. Panting now, he rested his head against the bark, opening his eyes to take in his surroundings. He was alone. There was no one, no voices, no bikes, no evidence that any of this had actually happened.

"Hello?" There was no reply, there was nothing. But the answer was plain enough without her absence: _suffer, as I have suffered, live with the memory of what you've done; how you left me alone – I am finished with you._ Daryl's anguished cries of her name echoed in the hollow forest around him. He didn't even have the ability to chase her... and then he was terribly, utterly alone.

"Beth!" He tried once more. Silence. Had they been taken? Was he next? He struggled to stand despite the pain urging him to stay still, when a gentle hand gripped his shoulder and pressed him back.

"Hey, easy, she's coming right back…"

The voice tugged at him, calling him back from the edge of his mind. It was male, soft and comforting, or at least it was meant to be. Forcing his mind into a sharp focus he saw Jesus, felt his hands gripping his shoulders, but Beth was gone. Panic gripped his racing heart as he searched frantically around them.

"Where'd she go?" he was trying to get up, but every nerve in his body fired in protest, forcing him back against the tree.

"I'm here," Her voice was gentle, a salve to his tortured mind. Dropping a collection of branches and twigs in a pile, she moved to his side. His vision blurred, and wavered. He blinked rapidly trying to clear it, and when he opened them again she was kneeling before him.

Her delicate fingers slipped into his hair and moved like a comb, parting the knotted strands of his hair and pushing them back from his face. He can't remember the last time his face was so exposed and he wanted to hide away from her intense gaze. A water bottle was pressed to his parched lips and he drank carefully, feeling pain anytime he swallowed too much or too quickly. But he was so thirsty it just wasn't enough.

"Slow down, or you'll get sick," she said, pulling the bottle back as she knelt beside him. "I know this is a dumb question, but you have to answer it honestly. How do you feel?" The groan was involuntary, rumbling out of his throat with a harsh exhaled breath.

"Weak…can' hardly move. Everything hurts, aches… _burns_."

She bent closer to him, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. He closed his eyes, willing himself not to be so weak as to lean in to her touch. The sound of something ripping drifted into his ears, and then a wet cloth was placed to his sweating brow. It wasn't cold by a long shot, but it felt good. The hand that was curled in his hair now stroked down his cheek, following the line of his trimmed beard almost lovingly as she pressed the cloth all over his face and neck.

He damn near purred, wanting nothing more than to lean into her touch like a cat and nuzzle his cheek into her hand. The tension seemed to melt away from his weary body, soothed by her presence, assured by the dampness of the air and strong scent of earth, decay, and blood that he was free from that cell. His heart rate slowed, yet his chest still felt as though it would burst, but from fear or joy he wasn't sure. He couldn't trust his own mind, but even when she was alive, he had never had anyone make him feel so vulnerable, yet so safe.

 _Taking care of him_ … he thought she'd abandoned him and she was just taking care of him, the way she had done for Judith – for all of them – for so long. Had they ever thanked her? He wanted to scream, to beg her forgiveness and he couldn't.

Sitting still took all of his concentration, and even that was becoming too much as the damp cloth left his neck and slid down his arm. Though the hand caressing him was soft, tender even, it set his nerves on edge. Still he watched, unmoving; his gaze drawn down to her hands and the strength he knew they contained. He funneled all of his concentration into just watching her pale skin, contrasted sharply against the tanned and filthy pigment of his flesh. She could have clawed his arm open with her nails and left him to bleed to death. He would welcome a death at her hands for how he failed her. Instead, she was gentle, tender even, as she held the cloth against his wrist.

His chest clenched in protest in a quick reminder as his hand reached towards her. She flinched, but didn't pull away as his fingers traced the scars on her face.

"What happened to you?" his voice cracked as he asked, as his fingers reached the scar where she'd been shot. Her bright blue eyes that had almost always been full of light and hope met his: cautious, haunted; guarded.

"You know what happened…" she replied softly, with no hint of emotion to be heard. His arm dropped like led, even such a small action was exhausting and painful.

"But I don't know how you're here," he wiped at the tears filling his eyes, "We left you."

"I don't remember a lot, Daryl." Her voice was clipped, clearly more interested in tending his wounds than having this conversation.

"I'm sorry…" he tried not to cry, really he did, his chest couldn't handle the pain from the spasming, but he'd waited so long to tell her that, "So, so sorry…"

"I'll be right back." Jesus said, awkwardly clearing his throat as he disappeared into the brush. Daryl had forgotten he was even there, so focused on Beth as he was.

* * *

"I don't remember a lot, Daryl."

It was a lie, but he had no reason to believe it wasn't the truth. She couldn't talk about this now, not when there was a stranger so close, not when Daryl was so obviously out of his mind.

He was looking at her, _studying_ her, and she could see he was trying to work out if she was actually real.

"I'm sorry," he choked, and then he was overcome with tears, "So, so sorry."

The first and only time she ever saw him weep so openly was at the moonshine shack, over the death of her father, over the loss and uncertainty of what remained of their family.

"I'll be right back," the man said, drawing her attention.

"Before you go, I'm gonna need your coat…" she called to him. The man slid it off without question and handed it to her. She draped it over his body and Daryl instantly came to life, fighting to push it off.

"No, it's too hot already…"

"Daryl, you need to keep it on," she said, keeping her voice firm as she glared at him. He sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow as he gave up and relaxed against the tree. It worried her as it relieved her, his body was just too exhausted to fight, but at least he wouldn't be much trouble. She covered the front his body, the coat barely reaching the edges of both shoulders.

"Grabbed some supplies before we left," their companion said, returning with three cans of beans and several bottles of water. She could have hugged him, grateful that at least he had thought this far ahead. She immediately took the water, both giving it to Daryl to drink, and wetting the piece of her shirt she'd ripped off.

"So hot, Beth…" he said, his head leaning into the cloth as she dabbed it over his face. He pushed the coat off again and she sighed in exasperation.

"I'm sorry, Daryl, you have to keep it on." She said, pushing the jacket back up to his shoulders. He struggled against her as she moved the cloth from his forehead to his neck, trying to keep his hands at bay while she worked. She grabbed hold of his hand, pressing the cloth to the inside of his wrist and held it there.

"If he's hot shouldn't we let him cool off?"

"No, we need the fever to break," she explained softly, "We're gonna have to keep the fire goin', when the temperature drops tonight he's gonna feel even colder. Shivering can make a fever rise even higher. We'll need to keep a close eye on him." She poured a little more water on it and pressed it to his skin.

"You're gonna need to drink some of that yourself," the man told her.

She didn't respond, watching from the corner of her eye as he started a fire, opened the cans and began heating them up.

"Drink, Beth," Daryl said, giving her the bottle back. She looked at him, took a quick sip and handed it back.

"I'm not the one who's dehydrated. I'll be fine."

Daryl nodded, drinking about half the bottle. She wanted to look at his wounds, to see if any of the cuts had signs of infection. She asked Daryl's permission to remove his shirt and as expected, he refused. Knowing better than to push him, she made sure Daryl was covered by as much of the jacket as possible, and sat beside him.

They were as safe and settled as they could be, and Beth allowed herself a moment to catch her breath. Her gaze fell to the man who had saved their lives, curious who he was, where he was from, and how he ended up a friend of Daryl's. He offered her a can of beans, which Beth promptly passed to Daryl after eating a few small mouthfuls for herself.

"So you got a name?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"That's Jesus," Daryl replied with a mouth full of beans.

Beth sighed, "He's still delusional…"

The stranger laughed, "No, my friends used to call me Jesus and it just stuck. It's how I introduced myself to Rick and Daryl way back when we met." Taking in the sight of his long beard and even longer hair, it wasn't hard to understand why the nickname stuck. With his light eyes and easy confidence, she found herself relaxing in his company.

"Ya got a real name? I ain't callin' you Jesus." She meant for it to be a lighthearted, teasing comment, but there was an edge to her voice that made his smile falter.

"Paul Rovia."

"Well, Paul Rovia, I'm Beth Greene." His eyes squinted as she said her name, as if it meant something to him.

"Greene? Any relation to Maggie Greene, or Rhee?" The breath felt knocked from her lungs as she stared at him.

"She's my sister. You know Maggie?" He nodded. "Do you know if she's ok? Did she live…the b-baby?"

"She's at my camp at the Hilltop with Sasha. Rick is making sure Negan thinks she's dead, though. And yes, the baby is fine – they're both fine and strong."

"Ya sure they're both alright?" Daryl interrupted in his soft voice.

"Yea, Daryl, I'm sure."

With that Daryl laid down on his back, right between Beth and the fire. Beth pressed the cloth to his temple once more as he closed his eyes.

"You live in separate camps?" Beth asked.

"Yea, there's a few different communities around here." Paul replied, "Do you want me to give Maggie a message?"

She was about to say yes, but as thought about how Maggie wasn't there when they came to get her, how she left her in that trunk, she decided against it.

"No, she thinks I'm dead anyway – they all do. Let us get home first, just in case something goes wrong. She just lost Glenn; don't give her the hope that she'll see me again just to have it taken away. It seems intolerably cruel."

The sound of Daryl's soft snores and heavy breathing drew their attention.

"Finally," she whispered softly.

"Shouldn't we keep him awake, or something?"

"That's only with concussions. His body is sick and needs as much rest as he can get."

"You should get some sleep yourself. You look exhausted. I'll take first watch." Paul offered.

"No, I'll take first watch. Just in case something happens or goes wrong, I'll know. Get what rest you can, it's gonna be a long night."

"You won't be much good to anyone if you pass out from lack of sleep and not eating."

"I'll be fine. I'll sleep when you wake up. I'll eat in the morning."

Paul nodded, laying on the opposite side of the fire from Daryl, and closed his eyes.

The whole point of keeping watch was to keep an eye out for people, animals, or walkers sneaking up on the camp. But the only thing Beth watched was Daryl. She focused on the rise and fall of his chest, listening to his labored breathing. She watched his body toss and turn, shivering ceaselessly even in front of the fire. He curled in on himself, hands held in front to protect himself from whatever was attacking him. It broke her heart to hear the soft whimpers, like a wounded dog, escaping his lips.

He settled once more on his back, and she gently lifted his head into her lap. His hair was even longer now, shielding his eyes and simultaneously hiding his emotions. Her fingers combed through the damp hair at his temple, pushing it away from his forehead, pushing it back behind his ear. She repeated the motion over and over again, even after all the hair was cleared from his face. There's hardly a version of his face she remembers that wasn't obscured in some way by his hair, except when she first laid eyes on him at her Daddy's farm.

She'd dreamed of this face, fearful she'd never see it again. It was the first thing she truly remembered and she held on to it as some kind of north star, as if that image alone would lead her home. And now that she has him back, she has no intention of losing him again.

* * *

It was unbearably hot; _he_ was unbearably hot. The heat of the flames on his face felt as though they'd melt the skin right off his bones, having gotten too close the burning house. They were all looking at him, firefighters, police, neighbors – some with pity, others with judgment and scorn – but he knew that his mother hadn't made it out even before they told him. He fought against the firefighter pulling him away, dragging him, screaming at the top of his lungs.

He choked, inhaling the burning ash into his lungs with every short, panicked breath. Long after they'd all gone, Daryl still knelt beside the rubble, unsure of where to go, of how to feel. He hated this house and all the bad memories he had here, and sometimes he maybe even hated her. But she was his mother, and despite how she failed to protect and save him, he loved her. He hated her weakness, her inability to put down the bottle and take him away from this miserable life. But he made her this way, and on some level, Daryl knew she loved him too.

"This is all yer fault –" the old drunk fool shouted, returning late from whatever bar he'd got wasted in, "If you'd'a been home, we'd still have a house!"

"Who cares about the house?! She was my mom!"

"She was a worthless cow!" For the first time, Daryl struck his father in rage. "That the best ya got?"

The punch to his face left him dizzy. The punch to his stomach knocked him to his knees. When he heard the belt being removed he didn't move. It wasn't the first time he'd been struck; it wouldn't be the last.

If he'd have been home, his mother might still be alive. If he'd have been home, perhaps his mother would have taken him with her, not leaving him alone with this man, like Merle. What the fuck did he care for this house? He spent most of his nights in the woods anyway.

"It's all yer damn fault," His father had never struck him this hard before, to the point Daryl felt trails of blood trickling down his back, "Quit yer cryin' boy, man up now,"

What his father couldn't see is that Daryl wasn't crying. He had no tears left after learning of his mother's death. Here on his knees, now blackened with the soot and ash of what was once their house, his heart hardened with each strike of his father's belt. Here, Daryl lost what little remained of his childhood and innocence.

Daryl glared at all those people still gathered around, watching this young boy being whipped by his father. Only it wasn't neighbors anymore – it was his family, Rick, Michonne, Maggie, Carl, Aaron, everyone all watching as Negan whipped him repeatedly. As Abraham was murdered. As Glenn was murdered. As Carl almost had a hand chopped off. As Daryl was dragged into that van. It was a room full of people watching a young man have a molten-hot iron pressed into the side of his face. All of them doing nothing.

It was Beth lying on a bed in a skimpy black dress, her blonde hair stained crimson with blood.

Daryl looked up to see Glenn standing over Beth, Lucille in his hand. His head was split open, and his body decayed like he'd become a walker. Daryl flinched each time he brought the bat down over and over.

"This is all your fault, you got her killed just like you got me killed." Daryl crawled over to the bed, gathering her lifeless body in his arms and held her against him. The sight of her was enough to make him nauseas, and he tried to move to carry her out of here, but his legs wouldn't budge.

"You should let her go, brother, you're just gonna leave her again anyway." came Merle's voice. Daryl released a heavy sigh, sick and tired of his brother's voice.

"I never left her." He replied, his voice weak with exhaustion.

"Sure ya did, left her in that trunk all alone, just like you left Ma. Ya left me on that roof and again in those woods when you went back to that prison. When she dies, _again_ , it'll be on you baby brother."

"I ain't tellin' ya again, I went back for ya, and Ma, and _her_."

"And we're all still dead…"

Daryl closed his eyes and held her tighter, "I won't lose her again,"

Merle only laughed, "Maybe this time blondie'll wise up and leave yer ass."

* * *

Beth was woken from a dead sleep to arms closing tightly around her. She panicked at Daryl's repeated words, "I got you, girl. I'ma keep you safe. I'm so sorry, please don't leave me again." It took her a moment to realize in the firelight that he was still sleeping. Somehow during the night she ended up with her back to Daryl's chest, facing the fire. Paul sat against a tree watching them, a pained expression on his face.

"He's been whimpering like that almost all night…it's what woke me up." Paul said as Beth struggled to release herself from Daryl's arms. She could hear the slightly accusing edge to his voice, that Daryl's whimpering woke him and not her because she fell asleep. "What's wrong with him?"

"It could be any number of things. I think it's an infection from one of his injuries, but then add the stress he's been under mentally and physically, the sleep deprivation, low blood sugar, dehydration, starvation…" she trailed off, only certain of the fact that Daryl needed more help than she could give him. She huffed in exasperation, knowing she wouldn't be able to break Daryl's grip. It didn't hurt, but his hands gripped each forearms and held them to her chest in a kind of bear hug. He had her pinned against him and if they were attacked she'd be helpless.

"Why's't so cold?" Daryl asked, words slurring together. Then all at once he released her and rolled away, vomiting in the nearby brush.

"Daryl…" Beth said, gathering his hair and holding it back from his face. There wasn't much in his system to lose, and before long he was dry heaving. She knew at the least the first antibiotic made it into his system, and she hoped the second one she gave him with the can of beans had been in his system long enough. She'd give him another one just to be safe.

He fell back to the ground choking and gasping for breath, rolling onto his back and closer to the fire. His arm started to fall to the side and Beth grabbed his hand before it landed in the flames.

"Beth…I'm cold…"

"I know, Daryl," she pulled a third antibiotic from her pocket and handed him the bottle of water, "Here, drink this…"

The water no sooner touched his chapped lips that he spit it back out. He was awake but erratic, struggling against her and trying to get closer all at the same time. He wasn't hallucinating, Beth realized, he was having a panic attack.

"Paul, you're gonna need to help me before he rolls into the fire."

"What can I do?"

"Hold his arms down…"

"Is that a good idea?" With the panic attack and his injuries, holding him down was probably the worst idea. She just didn't know how else to keep him safe.

"No, but is letting him catch on fire a better one?"

"Sorry," Paul said, gripping Daryl's arms and pinning them above his head, "Please don't kill me, this was all her idea." Beth nearly smiled, certain now that Paul and Daryl had been friends of some sort. He knew enough to know that Daryl hates to be touched, and perhaps even he had to face down Daryl's temper. And that's why she couldn't smile, holding him down was hurting him both physically and mentally; having to see him thrash around and listen to his terrified screams was ripping her heart out.

"Let go of me…" Daryl yelled, "Let go of me!"

"I'm sorry," she said repeatedly.

"He's gonna bring every walker in the area right to us if he keeps this up." Paul said above his screams. She nodded helplessly.

"He just has to go through it. There's nothing we can do but hope he falls asleep."

* * *

"Let go of me!" Daryl yelled, fighting against the men holding him down. He was pinned on his stomach, his right hand held out with a man's knee digging in just above his elbow. Negan wasn't far off, swinging an ax as he sauntered closer.

"Now Daryl, I know we had this chat before, but I really need you to listen now." Negan bent closer, and Daryl couldn't help the stiffening of his body in preparation for what came next, "We left that door unlocked so that you could prove to us that you'd been listenin' and you knew better than to try and run a third time. And now here we are; you've proven you don't scare easily or break easily, which I can even admire. But there's rules, and I'm gonna give you one last chance to prove to me you can follow them."

"Just kill me…" he choked out.

"Just kill you? Ha! I'll kill Rick, I'll kill that boy or anyone of those pretty young ladies long before I kill you. I want you alive, ain't I made myself clear on that?! I can wait, Daryl. I can wait a lot longer than you'll last. And to get my point across, I think I'll take a few of these fingers," he said, placing the edge of the blade at the bottom of his fingers, "…Or maybe I'll let you keep your thumb and the bottom half of the hand," he moved the blade to the center of his hand, "Or should I just cut the whole thing off at the wrist?"

"I won't run again." Daryl said, panicking as the blade dug into the skin of his wrist.

"Of course you won't, I know you're smarter than that." Negan mocked him, "You could be a king here, man. I can see you being my right hand man. There are women here that you can fuck whenever I give you permission to. Or do you like men? Would you like some of these guys to fuck you bloody senseless? It looks like it's been awhile since you've got some. Just say the word and its all yours…after you tell me your name."

"I'm Daryl."

Negan brought his arm down and the ax landed on the skin of his wrist. But instead of chopping through it, Negan only dragged the blade hard against his skin. Daryl bit back his groan, unwilling to give Negan the satisfaction of a single thing. He wouldn't show his fear or his pain.

"Whoo, Darylina, with all those men on top of ya I thought I's gonna watch you get what you always wanted." Merle's voice cut into his thoughts.

"Shut the fuck up, man!" Daryl shouted, knowing he wasn't real. And if he was here, maybe Daryl was already dyin'.

"Who are you telling to shut up?" Negan demanded.

"I always knew you was missin' your balls cause ain't no way I'd let that many men hold me down. You must like it like that."

"You best shut the hell up, Merle!"

"Merle? Who the fuck you talking to, man?" The group laughed with Negan, and it was in that moment Daryl surrendered, if only externally. He stopped fighting, he stopped yelling, glaring at Negan in cold stone silence. The man stood over him, Lucille back in his hand, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Take him back to his cell." He heard Negan order. Daryl was dragged to his feet and walked without incident to his cell, embracing his death. And as he curled himself into a ball in the corner, Beth appeared behind him, her small arms wrapping across his chest.

"I've got you, Daryl. Stay with me. I'm here…I've got you."

* * *

"Don't leave me, Daryl. I'm right with you, I'm here. You're safe." She kept whispering in his ear, half laying on his body. She couldn't lose him, not when they're so close to freedom. How cruel would it be to have travelled all this way, find him against all odds, only to have to watch him lose his mind and die in her arms. She tried to pray, if only in her mind, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it.

To her relief, his struggling began to cease and his whimpers and shouts died down. Paul released his grip on Daryl's arms and Beth relaxed her hold, silence once again settled over them. His arm came around her and squeezed before he went limp with sleep. She released a heavy sigh of relief, sitting up and placing Paul's coat back over his shivering body. She made sure to cover every inch of skin, and rested her hand over his heart just to feel it beating.

"I take it you two knew each other…" Paul said softly, "It's just obvious you really care about him."

"Yea, we all met shortly after the turn. My Daddy saved Carl's life and we've been together since. Then one day we were all separated and it was just us…for a time."

"How did you come to be in Negan's camp?" she looked down, then to the flames, "Sorry,"

"It's ok, I just don't like to talk about it – about any of it, really." He nodded in understanding.

"Did you know Daryl was there?"

"No, not till Negan sent me to start taking care of him a few days ago. Which may still have been too little too late. I'm not even sure Daryl knows I'm here now. I just had to get him out of there."

"Lucky we found each other than,"

She huffed with a small nod, "Yea…lucky." Her gaze focused on the fire, and she didn't look at him as she asked, "How is Maggie, really?"

"She's…she's tough. After Glenn…it was like this leader emerged. She's not just strong, but she's kind and compassionate. She's ready to fight."

"Sounds like her."

Beth smiled mostly to herself, sighing as she lifted her gaze to the sky. With no light pollution to interfere, Beth expected to see the sky full of stars. One thing she'd learned with all her nights on the run was that it was truly darkest before the dawn. The stars that should be filling the sky had all but died out and she knew that sunrise wasn't too far off.

"Do you know where Daryl's camp is?" she asked.

"Yea, I could find it." She pulled the gun from Daryl's jeans and handed it to him.

"Then go on ahead of us and bring some help back with you."

"I can't leave you both here alone without a gun" Paul said, rising to his feet. "What if Negan or his men find you, or walkers?"

"I'll deal with it. If they find us and find that gun we'll be in even more trouble. But we can't travel like this and he isn't gonna last much longer without some real help."

Paul sighed heavily, taking the gun, "Alright, what should I bring?"

"Um, a Doctor if they have one. Lots of water, antibiotics, Tylenol to reduce the fever, any kind of protein, carbs, juice, we need to spike his blood sugar. We have to be careful though, too much can cause an imbalance in his body. A doctor will know what to do."

"You sure you're all right for me to leave?"

"I'll be better if you get back sooner than later." She said pointedly.

Paul nodded, pulling a knife from his jeans and handed it to her, "You sure you don't want me to give her a message?" She held his gaze, knowing he was referring to Maggie.

"I'm sure, but…if Daryl and I make it back, wait a few days and bring her to where we are."

"You got it. See you soon,"

She watched Paul disappear into the night, finally sending up a silent prayer of survival. That Daryl could hang on, that Paul will reach and return with help without incident, that they could avoid being found by Negan, the Saviors, or a herd of walkers. _God_ , she prayed. She's just sure it'll make a damn bit of difference.

"Beth, i's so cold." He said, his voice and body trembling.

"I know, Daryl." All she could do was hold him, and not nearly as tight as she wanted to. All she could do was wait and hope for a miracle from a God she no longer believes in.

* * *

I hope it was worth the wait. Feel free to review. Shit's gonna hit the fan next chapter, so that'll be exciting. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me and this story, I hope you continue to enjoy it. :))


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hello again, sorry for the delay. This chapter is a little different, it includes Rick's POV. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Rick paced the kitchen, bouncing Judith gently in his arms. He'd never been so angry at his son, and he had hoped holding Judith would keep his temper in check. It wasn't working. His blood pressure rose with each word Carl had said. It was bad enough Carl followed the saviors alone and opened fire on Negan in his camp. And even though the dead walking around was a common occurrence now, nothing could ever have prepared Rick to hear the words that came out of his son's mouth.

"Dad, I'm not lying, Beth was there. We have to go get–"

"Stop, just stop! I know you want us to stop Negan, but to use Beth as your excuse?!" He pinched his nose and rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath as Judith started to whimper, "I don't doubt you saw a girl who looks like Beth, but don't you ever repeat this to Maggie, or Daryl when we get him back."

"She was _with_ Daryl; she recognized me. And how many girls with blonde hair that have scars on their cheek and above their eye and a _bullet hole in their temple_ can be in this world?!"

"Carl," but he never got a chance to finish that thought, as Rosita's voice over the radio interrupted him.

"Get to the gate, Rick; Jesus is running full speed towards it…he's alone."

"Copy…" Rick handed Judith to Carl with a stern glare, "We'll finish this chat later. You stay put…"

"Yea, yea, I got it – I'm under house arrest."

He didn't respond, practically running himself toward the gate to find out what was wrong – though he couldn't shake Carl's words. After his initial fear and anger faded, he could almost be impressed with his son's actions simply for the bravery of it. And he would have told Carl as much if he just hadn't been so stupid about it. He cringed again at the thought of losing his son. He hated Negan more than anyone, but he couldn't help but be grateful he spared Carl.

But to hear him say that Beth was alive, that she was in Negan's camp – he couldn't even comprehend it. What happened to Beth that day could easily have happened to Carl. She had been right in front of him, Herschel's youngest daughter, standing up to a bully of her own. He'd been proud of her too, but what followed was forever seared in his mind. The sound of the gunshot echoing in his ears, the way her blood sprayed, staining his clothes and face. The way she fell. And Daryl… They had come so close, but she was dead; there was no two ways about it.

Approaching the gate Rick saw Jesus doubled over. He didn't appear to be injured, just that he couldn't catch his breath.

"What's wrong? Is it Maggie?" Rick asked, gripping the man's shoulder as he reached him.

Jesus shook his head, panting, "She's fine. Daryl escaped. I found him." Rick was near ecstatic at hearing those words, but given Daryl's absence here, his panic only increased, "This is one of the Saviors radios, they've been talking all morning."

Jesus turned it on and held it up between them, _"Daryl is missing, and so is Lori. Assume they're together. When you find them, don't harm them at all. Contact me the moment you see them. Now that the sun is up and they've had a few hours, get to Alexandria and talk to my good friend Rick. Search that place high and low…and I do mean everywhere."_

Rick swallowed hard at the sound of Negan's voice and threatening words, "Who's Lori?"

"I don't know, when I found Daryl he was alone. He's got some severe injuries, he's really out of it, I'm pretty sure he's hallucinating. He needs help, Rick, more than I could give."

"Well, if they're on their way here, I can't leave. And you can't be here, either. Nothing can be out of place when they arrive. Get back to the Hilltop. If nothing else, Daryl is a survivor, but he wouldn't lead the Saviors right back here. He wouldn't put us in that kind of danger."

"Rick…" Jesus began, worry evident in his voice and pleading eyes.

"Jesus…" Rick held up his hand and looked away. It hurt him to do it, but they had no choice, "Stay off the roads as much as possible. We need you alive. I need you to keep an eye on Maggie. She can handle herself, but I don't trust Gregory. We'll head out as soon as we are able to look for Daryl. Then we'll make our way to Hilltop, let you know what happened."

Jesus nodded in reluctant acceptance, "Alright, look for two motorcycles hidden under some brush off the highway. If you can find those, he was camped not too far into the woods. Bring a doctor, water, Tylenol, food, any antibiotics you might have. He has a high fever."

"Thank you, we'll take care of him. You take care of yourself."

"You too," Jesus said, starting to back away, "And keep an eye on that kid of yours…"

"I'm tryin'…" he called back. Jesus barely got over the wall that led to the woods before Rosita informed him the Saviors had arrived.

He released a heavy sigh, steeling his nerves as the trucks moved through the gates. He'd heard Negan give the order on the radio, yet now he'd have to pretend he knew nothing of Daryl's escape, or his dire need for help. If there were two motorcycles that meant Daryl escaped with _someone._ No matter how impossible the scenario was, Rick knew that if Beth was there, then Daryl would fight like hell to get her to safety, and he would never leave without her. Not after Atlanta, not after…everything. And for the first time in too long, Rick allowed himself to hope that his son wasn't lying and Daryl wasn't alone.

"Rick! Good to see you!"

"Yea," he didn't even force a smile, keeping his voice emotionless, "Didn't know there'd be a pick up today…"

"Well there ain't. See Daryl escaped, took one of Negan's girls with 'im and we think he ran right home to his master."

"Daryl's not here."

"I hope you'll forgive me if I don't take your word for it. Negan wants this place searched high and low, and that's just what we're gonna do." The man waved his hand in signal to the men standing behind him.

Rick nodded and stepped aside, allowing teams of saviors to move into their town. He stayed put, watching as they kicked down doors and threatened the inhabitants inside. People looked to him with fear and accusation as they stood outside their homes, all of them powerless to stop it. Daryl had escaped, and as soon as he could, Rick was going to find him. Then using whatever knowledge Daryl had gained, they were going to stop Negan and the Saviors – once and for all.

* * *

Daryl blinked against the sunlight that filtered through the treetops, lying flat on his back. Beth was still curled into his left side away from his injured shoulder and he allowed himself a smile, appreciating every moment before he woke in that cell again. It wasn't the first time he'd dreamed of being outside; hunting, fishing, and seeing the sun. But that's when it dawned him that he didn't just see the sun, he could feel the warmth of its rays beating down on him. He could feel the breeze cooling his feverish skin. He felt the weight of Beth's body, her warm, living, breathing body, resting against his side.

"Am I dreamin'?" he rumbled, his voice thick and words slurred. She stirred and her head lifted, smiling up at him as she rested her chin just below his shoulder.

"No, you're awake." Her words echoed in his mind, but he couldn't make sense of them. If he could feel and she was here, than that could only mean one thing.

"Am I dead?"

"What? No, you're alive…" She reached up, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead, "I think your fever's breakin'…" He leaned into her touch, and all at once a surge of pain knocked the breath out of him, reminding him that he was very much alive. Spots filled his vision; everything ached down to his bones. Despite the pain he sat up, and pressed his back to a tree trunk.

"Was Jesus here?" he asked, breathing heavily.

She nodded, kneeling beside him, "I sent him to get help."

Nothing made sense, and he couldn't be bothered right now to try and understand. His hand reached out, shaking fingers pushing the hair from her face, combing it back to study her. That's when he felt it at the back of her skull, a small bump – _an exit wound_. She didn't pull away, letting him feel each of her scars. When his palm cupped her cheek, she pressed her face into his touch. Her hand covered his, holding it in place.

"Yer hair's shorter…" he mumbled.

"Yours is longer…" she smiled, smoothing the strands from his face and unveiling his eyes, "They had to cut my hair real short to do the surgery…" _Who? What surgery?_ But before he could ask, her fingers traced over the scar on his hand, "What happened here?"

He looked at it, wondering just how – with all the bruises and blood on his body – she noticed the tiny scar. No one else in their group had noticed. He swallowed thickly, contemplating telling her a lie or brushing her off. But looking in her wide, blue eyes, he couldn't.

"After you…after _they_ …I thought you was dead. I just…needed to feel somethin'." She nodded sadly and brought his hand to her lips, kissing the scar.

"Well I'm here now," she went to pull away, no doubt to avoid aggravating his injuries, but he kept her close.

"You're alive," he whispered, his hands cupping her face as he pressed his forehead to hers, "You're alive…" He doesn't know how many times he repeated that phrase or how many times he apologized even though she kept saying, " _It's ok_ , _I'm here_ …"

"We're both alive. We escaped, Daryl. I got you out." Beth said, smiling brightly.

Then all at once, his world came crashing in on him. _Smiling_. She was smiling. Didn't she know?! He couldn't contain his anger, and ignored the pain. He was on his feet in a flash.

"You have to take me back!"

Her eyes widened in confused shock, "What? No!"

"Beth, they'll kill someone, maybe even your pregnant sister or Carl or Judith. They promised me they'd kill someone if I escaped again. They don't break their promises."

"I'm not taking you back." She stated firmly.

This was so fucked up. They were both fucked, maybe even dead, along with whoever Negan chose to pay this price.

"It's all your fault!" he screamed, not surprised when his words didn't upset her. Only fire and defiance filled her eyes.

"My fault?" she repeated, rising to her feet.

"If you hadn't've got in my head and convinced me people could still be good I never would've helped those people! They never would've taken my bow, Denise would still be alive and I wouldn't'a been injured like I was when Negan got us. I coulda done somethin'!"

"Like you coulda done something to help me?" she challenged, not missing a beat, "To stop the Governor and save my father? To save your brother…" she edged her chin up defiantly and stared right into his eyes, "To find Sophia?"

"Stop." He growled in a low warning.

"Stop what? Reminding you that not everything in this shit world is your fault? That you aren't some kind of superhero that can stop every bad thing from happening to everyone ever? I'll stop, Daryl, when you accept that what happened to Glenn, to Denise, to _me_ , wasn't your fault. You can't control everything."

"I can't…" his voice cracked with the acknowledgment and his anger ebbed, his ribs and lungs aching with his rising emotion, "I had you, we were so close…I tried so hard to save you. And Glenn… I can't…I can't forgive myself." He couldn't cry, the agony already had his mind reeling and his body shaking. But Beth as it seemed hadn't changed much, as she stepped into his space and stared straight into his soul.

"You don't need to forgive yourself Daryl, because against all odds you _did_ find me. And we _were_ close, but I made a stupid choice. I knew you wouldn't give up; I've seen how deeply you care and how hard you try. But you're human." Her hand gripped his, squeezing tightly as she moved closer to him, still not afraid of him or his angry outbursts, "And you didn't get to see it, but you did save me – you saved a lot of people. When you killed Dawn, they were able to run the hospital the way they wanted. It wasn't perfect, but they stopped going out and kidnapping people, they stopped demanding work for treatment. When I was finally able, they let me go."

"Well, well, well," They both startled at Negan's voice and turned in defense to face him, "Ain't this cozy?"

His blood ran cold, he had no weapons and as far as he could tell, neither did Beth. They were surrounded, Negan looking smug as ever with Lucille resting on his shoulder. Daryl instantly placed himself in front of Beth.

"Negan," he began, but he never finished. A knee jammed into his already bruised side, knocking the breath from his lungs as he fell to his knees.

"Stop!" she yelled, but Negan pulled her against him and backed away. She struggled against the grip around her waist and Daryl reached out to grab her – to pull her back, but Negan moved too fast and his body couldn't take much more. He managed to stand, his hand hovering over his ribs as his vision blurred. There was no voice in his head, no vision of his brother. So looking into Beth's wide, terrified eyes, he knew this was real – entirely too fucking real.

"Daryl knew what would happen if he left again, and I am a man of my word." Negan said with a sickening smile.

"This wasn't Daryl's idea. He's been so out of it lately it wasn't hard to lead him out there. It was my fault." Beth argued in his defense.

"That don't much matter, Lil' Darlin'," Daryl's jaw clenched as Negan's grip tightened just above her elbow and without thought he dropped to his knees. This was what Negan wanted, right? His service; his surrender.

"Don't hurt her, take me back."

"No," she growled through clenched teeth, her eyes begging him to stand and fight. But he couldn't, not at the expense of her life or anyone else's.

"It's alright, Beth, I'll go."

"Beth? _You're_ Daryl's Beth?" Daryl closed his eyes, cursing himself for having given it away. This is what he had hoped to avoid, why he hoped that she was a mere hallucination. Daryl would never give Negan what he wanted, no matter how he hurt him. But there ain't nothing he won't do to protect Beth.

"You lied to me? Who's Lori?" Negan demanded, shaking Beth to face him. She gave him a questioning look, but he only shrugged. There was no harm in telling Negan about a woman already dead.

"Lori was Rick's wife, she died."

" _That's_ whose name you took?" he asked incredulously, staring her down as he crowded her personal space, "So, you lied, broke out my prisoner, killed one of my men, and left without my permission…"

"She didn't know, Negan. Just take me back, I'll go – I'll cooperate, I swear."

"That wasn't the price, Daryl." Negan said.

"He's not gonna kill us, Daryl," Beth said, disturbingly calm. Daryl and Negan both looked to Beth in surprise.

"Is that right?" Negan asked amused.

"That's right…" she stated firmly. It was such a familiar scene. Beth, this five foot nothing little spitfire standing up to and staring down a man twice her size and mean as a starving grizzly bear. Daryl wondered if this is what they looked like at the moonshine shack, when she broke through his walls the way that tank crumbled those fences.

"You're cute, girlie, but I'm not sure you understand how this works." Daryl swallowed hard, shaking his head as Negan closed the distance between them. Dwight's hand on his shoulder kept in his place, not that he'd be much help to her anyway. Like Glenn, he'd probably only succeed in getting her killed.

"Oh, I understand. I get it." Daryl froze, recognizing those as the last words Beth said before Dawn shot her. Girl was too damn defiant for her own good, "But you're not gonna kill us. I don't actually think you're that stupid."

"Well thank you," came his smart reply, and he swung Lucille toward her, barbed wire only inches from her abdomen.

"Don't…not her, please." Daryl choked out.

"No, Daryl, not her. I think I'll hear what she has to say, though, since she thinks I'm so _smart_." Negan replied, not taking his eyes off Beth as he spoke. Her gaze drifted in his direction, before returning her full focus to a madman.

"You're gonna let us go, both me and Daryl. You're going to let us go home to our family."

"Now why would I do that?"

"Because you need allies more than you need enemies, and killing either of us will be signing your own death warrant. If you let us go, we can tell people about how good you are, how you took care of us, how you released us."

Negan snickered, leaning in closer, "Didn't Daryl tell you? I broke your leader. Rick won't lift a hand against me. Not if he wants that boy of his to keep his hand…"

"I didn't say it would be Rick." Her voice was rising along with the fire in her eyes and he was helpless to calm her down, to stop her from the eruption that may get them both killed, "Do you think you're unique? You really think you're the only one who rules with fear and kills people to make an example? You ain't the first person who's punished an innocent person for no reason other than to boost your own ego."

"Beth –" he tried, but she was just getting warmed up.

"See, I don't think you understand who we are." "We aren't just a group with Rick as our leader, giving us orders. We are a family."

"How sweet…"

She huffed, still not backing down, "I saw my Daddy beheaded by a man who called himself the Governor because Rick wouldn't hand over a woman to be murdered. He showed up at our gates with a tank and destroyed a perfectly good and stable environment because he couldn't get his own way. Daryl and I got out together. We took care of each other. Then I was kidnapped and brought to a hospital where I was abused and manipulated and used to kill people. Dawn, the woman in charge, gave me these scars and shot me in the head. Daryl put a bullet between her eyes. But they thought I was dead, and they had to leave."

He swallowed hard, fighting back the hot sting of tears.

"That _boy_ , Carl, that you seem so enthusiastic about maiming was shot. My Daddy saved his life, that's how we met Rick. He has saved all our lives and we've been together for years. We fight with and for each other. I don't expect you to understand the bond we have. We respect Rick, even though he makes mistakes. How many of your people actually respect you?" she demanded, looking to Negan with open scorn. For his part, Negan didn't reply or interrupt her, "Look at the dictators throughout history, everyone who ruled through fear was defeated by the same people they crushed. It might not be Rick, or me, or Daryl, but we aren't the only enemies you've made. One day, someone _will_ end you. If you kill us you remove any reason Rick has to cooperate. Give us back, and we can all make sure we work together."

"Wow," Negan said, clapping his hands in a slow, mocking rhythm, "That was so moving." He stepped closer to Beth, leering over her until he finally looked his way with that stupid, amused grin, "So you and Daryl, huh?" Negan asked suggestively, looking between them. Daryl felt the warmth flush his cheeks and avoided his eyes, and Beth tried to remain passive and give nothing else away. "Oh no, no! You're tellin' me that you were all alone in the woods with a piece like this for weeks and never touched her?" Negan laughed than, a deep belly laugh that had Daryl wishing the earth would just him whole. "Are you broken? Or maybe you just don't know what to do with a woman like that?"

"She was barely eighteen, man," Daryl ground out between clenched teeth.

"And how are old are we now?"

"Twenty, I think." She admitted softly, "And there ain't nothin' wrong with him. Not all men are rapists who take advantage of people…" Daryl shook his head, wanting nothing more than for her to stop fucking talking.

"I ain't a rapist, either. Are you still a virgin, _Beth_?" the sound of her name on his lips and the suggestive way he leered at her made his stomach turn. Again their eyes locked, not that being a virgin was anything to be ashamed of, but Negan would somehow use it to his advantage. "You are, ain't ya?"

Beth nodded.

"Woo! Now that is a rare thing! Ya ain't been forced by now?"

"It's been threatened plenty enough…" she glared at him.

"Hmm," he smiled, practically dancing and swinging Lucille between them, "See right about now is when I'd normally start bashing skulls. Before I do, I want to know what you're offering."

"I told you, if you let us go, we can tell people about how good you are. We'll be your allies."

"No, not that. I'm giving up two people, what do I get in return? What assurances do I have that you won't storm my gates with a tank?"

Then, finally, there was silence. But instead of making him feel better, it filled Daryl with a dread that she was about to say something unthinkable. Beth didn't look at Negan, or him, her eyes were focused downward at something no one else could see. She was weighing her options and no matter what she said, Daryl knew he wasn't gonna like it.

"You wanted me to be your wife…" she stated softly.

And there it was, and it actually surprised him. Her voice lacked the confidence she'd just displayed as she stood up to him, and Negan's answering smile had him fisting handfuls of dirt at his sides, squeezing so hard the resounding burn echoed through every nerve in his body.

"I've got wives, the price for two lives is gonna be a high one. You'll be my wife, but there is one more thing I want from you…" the way his eyes slipped to her stomach made his heart stop, nauseas as he understood the bastards meaning. She didn't even flinch.

"You'll leave them all alone, right? You won't harm any of us if I agree?"

"You have my word." Negan said.

"Beth, ya can't…" he pleaded, barely above a whisper.

She inhaled deeply, showing the first signs of emotion in her disgusted expression as she replied, "And you have mine."

"Can I get that in writing?" he grinned, licking his lips. Beth only stared. "I also want you to be our supply runner and go between. I want to see you weekly, if not more."

"It's a deal as long as I can go home for a few weeks, just let me see my family for a little while and say goodbye properly this time."

Negan stared at her; Daryl didn't think he would agree, especially given what happened the last time Negan made a deal like this. Daryl wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed when Negan smiled.

"Little Lady you've got yourself a deal." Simon mumbled something Daryl couldn't hear, but it made Negan turn and point the barbed wire at his right hand man, "What? It's hard to argue the logic of a good woman."

"And please return Daryl's vest, bike and crossbow…" Beth asked, her voice rising above the jeers and cheers of the saviors. It was for him, he knew, but he wished she would just quit speaking while Negan was in a good mood. Negan once more looked between them, and Daryl had never wanted to commit cold-blooded murder more in his life.

"Nah, I think I'll let Dwight keep those. Besides, in Daryl's hands it's a weapon, in Dwight's hands that bow is just a prop," Daryl looked to Dwight, recognizing defiance in his eyes beneath the passive acceptance. He didn't care how poorly Negan treated Dwight, Daryl would kill them both as soon as he was able.

Negan got on his radio, "Round up Rick and his people and bring them back to where it all went down."

Beth made her way to his side and knelt down – all he could do was glare and hope to keep the storm inside. Her eyes were every bit as blue as he remembered, looking up and offering a small smile just for him – to encourage him, or make him believe it would all be ok. But nothing was ok, and as she gripped his hand, his first instinct was to push her away. She had just bargained away her life, her freedom, and her first born child to Negan… _for him_. If he wasn't so weak or in so much pain, he would leave right now and never look back. Maybe he should thank her that they both aren't dead right now, but he felt sick to his stomach and nothing but bitter contempt would lace his words.

"And Beth…" Negan called. She looked up at him, "If you or anyone else even thinks about breaking this deal, I'll see how far I can get Lucille up someone's ass. See what kinda sounds he makes then…" Negan didn't have to point the bat him for Daryl to know the threat was directed at him.

"You have my word; it won't come to that." There was no fear in her eyes, no hesitation that she'd made a mistake. If she was acting, then she deserved a damn award for her performance right now. Because despite his anger, Daryl was more terrified now than he was the night he watched Glenn die.

She managed to help him to his feet, practically holding him up as he leaned all his weight into her side. The saviors moved around them and he didn't fight as they were both brought to a truck. Rick and the rest of them were all being brought back to the place where this never ending nightmare began. He closed his eyes as he sat down, preparing himself to see another member of his family murdered before his eyes. Beth squeezed his hand tighter as hoods were placed over their heads; she held on tighter still as the trucks began the long journey back.

* * *

Hours had passed and Rick could only imagine the mess these people were making in their search. Rick had never felt better – and worse – about a decision in his life. They weren't going to find him here so there wouldn't be consequences, but that meant Daryl was running out of time. It could already be too late if Jesus was to be believed. All the times Daryl was there to save him – to save all of them – and Rick couldn't be there the one time Daryl truly needed it.

"Well, thank you kindly, Rick Grimes." The man said, climbing into the truck, "Oh, and if Daryl does make it back, I do hope you'll do the right thing and let us know. Negan has a score to settle." Rick nodded and watched as they drove off.

He sighed heavily in relief as the gates were closed and locked behind them. He started back toward his house; he had to get Michonne and Aaron and anyone else who might be willing to help him search for Daryl.

"Hey Rick, something's wrong!" Rosita's voice called from behind him. He turned back, shielding his eyes from the blinding sun, "They're coming back."

He stayed where he was, his heart hammering as the gates were re-opened. The trucks didn't enter, but the ringleader did. Rick started back towards him.

"Something wrong?"

"Negan requests your presence, as well as everyone who was with you that first night we all officially met." His blood turned to ice as the man smiled, "I'll wait."

Rick was numb with fear as he gathered Michonne, Carl, Aaron, and pulled Rosita from guard duty. Eric volunteered to watch Judith for him and Father Gabriel took over for Rosita. Abraham was dead. Glenn was dead. Sasha and Maggie were safe but no longer here.

"I seem to remember more of you." He said, looking suspicious.

"This is all we have left of that group. Y'all took Daryl and Eugene, three died, and another left on her own."

The man nodded and with a shrug of his shoulders, he said, "Well, let's not keep the boss man waitin'. You can follow us in that RV…" There was silence among them as they all moved toward their vehicle.

"Rick what is going on? Where are we going?" Michonne whispered in his ear as they all boarded the RV.

"I don't know," he replied and he prayed it had nothing to do with Daryl.

* * *

Beth was practically vibrating with fear as she stood between Daryl and Negan. Her nails dug into the skin of Daryl's hand, and to his credit he didn't flinch. Negan was on her other side, a possessive hand gripping her shoulder, keeping her in place. She swallowed hard the sadness and disgust at the sight of two pools of blood where Glenn and Abraham had fallen, as if the earth wouldn't erase what happened here. She wasn't naïve, there was still a chance that Negan would teach her the same lesson once her family arrived, and someone else would die due to her mistake. It was too late now.

The trucks pulled up followed by an RV, and her grip tightened on Daryl's hand. He returned the motion in kind, nearly breaking her bones. One by one they all stepped onto the ground: Rick, Michonne, Carl and two others she didn't recognize. At least Judith wasn't with them. It was a moment she never actually believed she'd experience, seeing her family again. And there they were. It was like a really fucked up game of dodgeball, their family on one side of the blood stains, she and Daryl on the other.

Rick's gaze shifted from focused disdain to confusion as he stepped closer, taking in the sight of her. Their eyes locked, and she's not sure she's smiling, but it feels good to see him. Safe. Like maybe somehow, they'll all live through this now that he's here. He looks downright weary, and not that she's surprised, Negan has that effect on people. Anger fills his eyes then, as he shifts his gaze between her and Negan.

"What the hell is this?" Rick demanded. Negan kept his arm around her shoulder, and she cringed as he pulled her from Daryl's side. He dropped her hand, and the motion hurt more than a slap to the face, like it was so easy for him to let her go.

"Well, Rick, it would seem this lovely young girl knows you – even calls you her family. Told me her name was Lori, that name mean anything to you?" Guilt battled her already warring emotions at the look in his eyes – mainly confusion, perhaps some anger, but he really just looked uncomfortable. "What do ya think, Rick, did she have a teenage crush on you and pretended she was your wife?" The disgust in his eyes mirrored her own thoughts at those words, and she knew Rick didn't believe it, but it was still disgusting to hear. She wanted so badly to say something, but the threat was too real and she wouldn't risk provoking him.

"Is there a reason you brought us all here?" Rick asked in a clipped voice.

"She and I made a deal, I'll let her tell you all about when y'all get home." Daryl was pushed forward and one of the men she didn't recognize reached out to steady him. Beth noted how Daryl didn't flinch from the man's touch, and hugged him in return when the other stepped forward. It was a sign of trust, and Beth memorized the man's face as an ally. He quickly regained his footing, but still, Daryl wouldn't even look at her.

"Home…they're coming with us?" Rick asked, his voice cracking, clearly confused.

"For now. And pay very close attention to the terms of our deal, cause if any one of you breaks it, and I mean if _anyone_ , including your kid, breaks our deal, I'm killing Daryl and taking Beth and whoever broke our agreement gets to meet Lucille up close and personal." She held her breath; her heart hammering as the barbed wire was set just next to her face.

Finally, the cage of his arms lifted and Negan pushed her to Rick. He caught her and held her still; no one spoke as the saviors loaded into their trucks and drove off. It was so familiar, the look in Rick's eyes, full of awe as if he couldn't believe she was real. The hand on the back of her head, pulling her closer, almost close enough to kiss. It was more of an awkward hug, and Beth could've cried in relief that she was in his arms. It felt like home, or the closest thing to home she'd find in this world. It almost felt like she was being held by her father. She needed him right now, more than ever she needed him.

And like in that hallway, Rick let her slip passed him to a group waiting behind him. Instead of Daryl, it was Michonne who approached her, an ear to ear radiant smile greeting her. Beth had never seen this woman smirk much less smile, not like this.

"Beth!" it was a whisper, but she was pulled into the woman's tight embrace and held there. She hugged her in return, almost laughing hysterically. Everyone looked so healthy, and they smelled so clean. Wherever they were living had to be a good place and she was actually looking forward to seeing it. Her eyes burned as Rick and Daryl stood before each other, neither speaking, and Daryl tried so hard to look strong. And she knew he was, but in this moment, his body and spirit were broken. But not even Daryl could hold it in as he dipped his head, leaning just an inch closer to his brother in arms before Rick pulled him into a tight embrace.

Finally Michonne released her, and Carl took her place. She could still see the boy on her Daddy's farm, the one who was still innocent – before his mother, before whatever took his eye. He was still only a teenager, but his height, his maturity, made him seem like a young man. They shed the children they had been. She hugged him, and she tried to speak, to say anything. It seemed to be a problem they were all having, no one was speaking.

The same man that caught him approached Daryl, a wide smile and kind eyes as he placed a hand on his shoulder, "It's good to see you, man."

They were the first to board the RV, followed by Rick, Carl and Michonne. She got on behind them, and the Latina woman she didn't recognize closed the door behind her, looking bitter at their joy.

"Real quick, this is Beth; Beth, this is Rosita and Aaron."

"It's nice to meet you," Aaron said with a kind smile. She smiled in return, but said nothing. Rosita simply nodded in her direction and sat in the passenger front seat. There would be time to reconcile and catch up on each other's absences, but right now they all just stood there in awkward silence.

"I guess I'll drive…" said Aaron, moving to the front.

"Thanks, Aaron," Rick said, assisting Daryl to the bed in the back, and it didn't take any convincing for Daryl to stretch out. She tried not to stare, or listen in as Daryl and Rick spoke of what happened. Michonne sat before her, and Beth forced a tight smile, asking a question she's feared the answer to since they fled the prison.

"Is the Governor still alive?"

Michonne's eyes widened, "No, Beth. I killed him." There was a heavy pause as Beth sighed in relief, and immediately took a deep breath in preparation for her next question, "I found your father…after. I wasn't able to bury him, but I ended it for him."

Beth managed a smile, almost launching herself back into the woman's arms in thanks. "Thank you, Michonne." She whispered.

At that Rick returned, sitting beside Michonne and taking her hand. Some things had obviously changed since she'd been gone. She was happy for them; it made sense, and she wanted to hear those stories. But not now, not as she looked back to the bed and saw Daryl fast asleep. A part of her wanted to go to him, to feel him against her and know he was real – that this was all real. She's wanted this for so long, to be reunited, to back where she always felt she belonged. But she's not the same, and the woman she is now may not fit in the same places as the girl she left behind.

They were all still alive, all together and unharmed. This was a victory, right? But deep within her, she only felt crushing defeat.

* * *

Again, I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to review, I love your comments! Thank you to everyone who has commented on this fic, followed it and favorited. I love this story, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. And also, just a note on the pacing of this story, I know it moved kind of fast to this point, but I have a lot of dealing with stuff (hence the title _Open_ Wounds) for later chapters. I used the first few chapter to set the tone of the story and give you an idea of everyone's frame of mind. So going forward, each chapter should be more flushed out than it has been. I hope you continue to read and enjoy this story. Till next time! :))


	6. Authors Note

Hi all. I'm so sorry to be posting this, and before you panic, the story will not be abandoned. Unfortunately, my laptop is broken and I do not have the money to diagnose it let alone fix it. As it's the only one I have, I have no other way to work on my stories. I'm behind on some of my bills and I just had to spend $500 fixing my car (that $500 was my rent and my phone payment) so sadly, my laptop is taking a backseat until I can get caught up. Again, none of my stories will be abandoned and I'm going to post this note on a few of them so everyone knows what's going on. I am so so sorry that this happened. The only update I will give is the posting of a new chapter, so hopefully sooner than later. Again, I'm sorry.


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